The Summer Haze
by fatedtopretendd
Summary: Set in the summer after the end of season 3, Ryan and Marissa find themselves reconnecting and a new friendship begins to form, perhaps even something more. FINISHED.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's been ages since I last posted, for which I'm sorry but I've simply been too busy. Hopefully, with the summer coming up, I'll have more time to post. And, I know some people are waiting for the final instalment of 'Home Again' but somehow the inspiration has completely left me for that fic, so who knows when that final chapter will come. However, here is a new fic and there should be two more parts to it. Hopefully, you'll all enjoy it. Thank you for the kind reviews on my previous fics and as always, reviews on this will be much appreciated.**

Marissa Cooper lounges on the beach, a fluffy pink towel separating her bikini clad body from the silky yellow sand. Her concentration shifts from reading her tattered copy of 'On The Road' to observing the vivid blues of the ocean waves. It's a nice day; the sun is beaming down but it isn't burningly hot. The beach is truly crowded and although she usually revels in the solitude of the setting, today she appreciates the crowds for it makes her feel normal. Today she is another 18 year old girl - like any other in these crowds - enjoying the summer heat and getting in some crucial tanning.

Except she really isn't like any other girl, but for today that's all she wants to be.

"Hey."

She sees his shadow before she hears him and as she turns to check, she sees it's him. Ryan Atwood stands in front of her, dressed in shorts and that one blue shirt that he always wears but he looks so unbearably handsome in it that she won't even complain.

"Hey."

She sits up and scoots over, leaving space for him to sit down next to her but he stands there sheepishly, his hands tucked in his pockets, not really doing anything. She thinks he is nervous and she cringes from how awkward things can be between them when a time ago, they were so seamless. Nonetheless, she doesn't want him to leave because she'll take the awkwardness if it means more time with him, more time to fix their mess of a friendship. She thinks of something to say to ease the situation but in the end she doesn't have to since he finally decides to sit down. Their eyes meet and the awkwardness transcends and as it does it unites them in this shared feeling and suddenly they're both chuckling from the absurdity of the situation. They've suffered so much; they've been utterly in love, lost in anger, filled with uncontrollable lust and somewhere along the line even been successful friends; and after all that, awkwardness simply doesn't have a place.

"Summer's with Seth, they were planning for next year and I was kind of beginning to feel like a third wheel," he explains.

"So you left and joined me instead." she completes for him.

"Something like that." he pauses for a second and then adds with genuine concern on his face, "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, in fact I'm glad you're here."

The curious thing about their relationship is that they both seem to love each other's company and yet are always awfully conscious about imposing on the other. Not only that, they are impeccably tentative about submitting to those wishes. Ryan paced up down the pier a good 10 times before finally making the decision to approach Marissa. Ever since their break-up, perhaps even a while before it, they've had this painstaking distance between them and all he had ever wanted was to close it. For a while he retaliated and ran further and further from this task but now, with the summer ahead of them and Berkeley looming in the near future, he is all the more compelled to fulfill it. He was wholly determined but the minute she came into his view and he saw her in all her glorified beauty- because that bikini really didn't leave much to his imagination, especially when he has seen it all already and is shamefully able to recall every detail - he was thrown into a sudden state of panic. While he wanted them to be close again, he has no certainty whether he wishes that in a platonic or romantic way, and so the sexual attraction was really a jarring distraction when trying to organise his thoughts. It's also a troubling throw back to the vulnerability which Marissa has the uncanny ability to inspire in him; the feeling came on him with such a vivacity, that it left him feeling powerless. But he shook himself of such thoughts and told himself, that his attraction is merely an attraction which any hot blooded male would feel. After all, Marissa is undeniably beautiful and as they sit on their little stretch of the beach, he notes how the gaze of every man that passes, glances over her body.

When he sees the attention she gets on an ever frequent basis, it strikes him that it wasn't ever surprising how every boy that came into their lives seemingly fell in love with her. He can't blame them really, can he blame _her_? Time has passed, but Johnny still bothers him. Maybe even Oliver and Trey too but not in the same way. He doesn't actually blame her, not rationally anyway, but he wants answers and he wants to talk but as always, doesn't know how to.

He leans back slightly and tries to work out how he, the boy from Chino, managed to get a girl like Marissa. He never really saw her as the same picture of perfection that everyone else did and their relationship certainly wasn't perfection but even so, she always did and always will inspire a level of awe in him. For one thing, her beauty overwhelms him but past that, he knows the kindness and the sincerity which exists, so unlike anyone he has ever known. It still eludes him why she ever wanted him. He can only ever consider himself as common but she, she has the potential to be extraordinary. Only she never seems to know and always seems to throw it away.

As he was pouring through those thoughts, he must have been staring at her with unbarred intensity because she looks at him with sheer confusion.

"Ryan?"

"What?" he says embarrassed, coming out of his stupor.

Her eyes soften and voice becomes quieter as she asks him gently, "What are you thinking?"

This is the chance to ask, to clear the air but he has become an expert at keeping it all under constraint. However, he really does want them to be close.

"I'm thinking..." he waits, trying to chose wisely, "...about the past."

Marissa takes in his words and bites her lips as she contemplates their implication.

"_Our _past."

"Sort of."

For a while they say nothing and watch the sea instead. There's the awkwardness again.

"I miss it, the way it used to be." Ryan tries to elaborate further, "Before everything, like last year when we were really _friends_ and it was so easy."

He gives her a look as if to ask _'Don't you, agree?'_ and she thinks it over. There's the despondent part of her, weighing down on the implication that he preferred them best as friends, yet she undeniably has to agree. Those days, before everything with Trey came to pieces, had to be some of the easiest she ever spent but she never saw that time spent as truly just friendship. She had genuinely intended to be a friend to him but in hindsight she hoped that in that time he had fallen in love with her again. They had after all gotten back together, so she concludes, he _must _have surely felt something greater than friendship.

Anyway, she pushes those thoughts away and gives him a simple - though unconvincing - nod of her head to prove her agreement

"I guess, what I'm trying to say really is that I've missed you."

Marissa's eyes shoot up as she hears his words and he feels the seriousness of the statement too because it's been a while since they've really been emotional with each other. He sits up straight and looks at her with a piercing intensity so she understands he truly means this.

"I've missed you too." she tells him.

She feels she might almost cry. There's something overbearingly emotional about this simple exchange between them. Those words, "I've missed you", alone convey everything; it's the keystone for change, for a shift forward in their relationship; it's the commitment to repair what they've broken; it's the symbol for the depth of their care.

* * *

They spend more or less everyday on the beach. Quite often, Seth and Summer are there but about a fortnight passes when Seth and Summer are off visiting Brown and in that time, Ryan and Marissa find themselves thrown together in an unsettling but no less appealing intimacy. Long hours spent lounging in minimal clothing along with the sensual summer haze meant it was an inevitability. But in addition to that, this turned into a chance to forge once again the bond that had diminished along the way.

It's one afternoon, that he sets aside the copy of 'On The Road' she's forcing him to read, and asks her about Johnny.

"Marissa, will you get angry if I ask you something?"

"Probably not but I can't tell you if don't ask me." she says after completing applying her sun screen, which was an excruciating event for Ryan to witness, so much so that he couldn't even peel his eyes away.

Forcing himself to concentrate, he begins, "After Johnny...after what happened..."

"After Johnny died," she repeats, "It's ok, you can say he died. I'm not going to freak out."

"Ok. So, did it change the way you felt or, _feel_ about him?"

She ponders it over, not because she doesn't know the answer but because it's just hard to explain.

"I don't think I ever loved him. Maybe after his death, I felt I did but I think that was the guilt talking."

"Guilt?"

"I wrote him a letter, it was a cowardly thing to do really. I wrote him a letter to tell him I didn't love him, that I never would. I really owed him an upfront explanation but I don't know, back then I was making all the wrong decisions. And then he died, and I couldn't help feeling that somehow my letter led him to that road. It's probably a very egotistical thing to think, isn't it?" a deep cynicism laces her tone as she continues, "That my letter meant so much that it drove him to act the way he did. There I am again, making his death about me."

"You know, you probably did mean that much to him but it doesn't mean you caused it." he sighs and then adds, "It's not your fault that he thought you loved him."

"Isn't it?"she asks but he can't tell if it's rhetorical or not. "You thought I loved him, some part of you _still_ seems to think that. He thought I loved him. Kaitlin too. So maybe it is my fault, maybe I did lead him on."

Ryan runs an uneasy hand through his - rapidly growing very long - hair. He notes he needs a haircut.

"I'm sorry I never believed you."

She shrugs.

"It's not your fault. I never helped."

He sighs again.

"Maybe sometimes it was the way you acted but then that became magnified with my own insecurities. It made more sense to me that you would rather be with him than me, especially with everything that happened that summer." He stops and he thinks about leaving it there but then he is hit with this uncontrollable need to expel everything from within him. This is the moment to clear the air, and it might be messy but the silences and the awkward stumbles are messier. "I don't want to blame you Marissa, and I don't. Maybe my jealousy, my insecurity fucked everything up and maybe that's what's talking now but there was something wasn't there? You were always with him, you cared about him, you cared that he was Kaitlin, you cared so much that it never made sense to me unless, you were in love with him."

Marissa plays with her fingers, avoiding his gaze because the validity of the accusations bring her a certain embarrassment but moreover a sadness, that their relationship strayed so far, so full of insecurities. She can feel the weight of Johnny finally unravelling in front of them and suddenly she is struck with this peculiar feeling of poignancy. Perhaps had they had this conversation months ago, their relationship would be in a different direction.

"I wanted you; never him. And I know that with a distinct certainty," she says with pointed resolution, "and when I think back to last year, I'm sure I knew that then but...it was hard for you to talk to me. Understandably, maybe I didn't quite see that then but I do now. I guess that was it. I wanted to talk, and he was there and he wanted to talk, and it was easy." She sees a flicker of hurt pass through his eyes on that comment and she quickly adds, "But it wasn't that it was _him,_ I think I needed to just talk everything over, have it out in the open rather than pent up inside me. Really, I should have been in therapy."

"We both should have." He laughs lightly and she does too even though it's barely funny.

"But, it was not love Ry. Not with him." she tells softly and, only for the briefest of moments, she seeks out his hand and gives it a firm squeeze.

He feels her sincerity; from the manner of her words to the glowing assurity in her eyes to the final touch of emphatic confidence from her hand.

They stay silent for a moment, absorbing that final sentiment.

Ryan plays her words over.

"_wanted you"_

"_never him"_

"_not love"_

"_not with him"_

He can't help a small smile sneaking in when he hears the resounding assurity in those statements but as he keeps replaying her monologue, his mind settles on one phrase.

"_I wanted to talk, and he was there and he wanted to talk, and it was easy"_

She had wanted to talk, she had needed him and he had failed her. He was difficult. He was pathetic.

Cowering in an all consuming shame, he feels his throat clog up.

Somehow, from somewhere, he blurts out "I'm sorry." His eyes diverge as far from her as possible. He felt he must apologise but he also wants to forget the whole ordeal, his failure and in apologising, he is only reminding her.

She blinks cluelessly and still not realising the purpose of his apology, she is forced to ask him.

"What do you mean?"

He groans and he can feel his throat drying up at an exponentially rate.

"I'm sorry for not being there. To talk." he croaks and his eyes which cross hers momentarily, immediately shift back to a vacant spot in the sea.

"Ryan, that's ok. Like I said, I understand; you don't have to be sorry." she tells him with an apologetic look of her own.

He shrugs, dismissing her. Trey is suddenly on the forefront of his mind and he wonders if it's on hers as well. He had forgotten about that and along the line had deluded forgetting with resolving the problem. His throat is now a dry well as he realises that him and Marissa are yet to have really talked about it. She might as well have resolved her individual issues over Trey but there's a foolish pride in him that demands that they have a discussion of their own, for he will not be outdone by Johnny. There's an overwhelming desire to have her confide in him, to trust him, and it was there all through their relationship. Perhaps it was why it had pained him so much to see her talk to Johnny or further back when it had been Oliver. But the tragedy remains, that she had wished it to be him as much as he had, only he had been unable to fulfill the role. Not as a result of something central their relationship lacked because she really felt an openness with him that was unparalleled with anyone else but rather it was the tragedy of the circumstances. He almost understood _too_ well.

He has come to terms about Trey to a better extent now. So before he can run from the opportunity, he tells her, "If you want to talk, I'm here now. I know it's far too late to be saying it, but I am here."

It's an offer for her benefit but as he speaks, he is forced to acknowledge, it's also a request for her to be there for him. He hasn't really spoken about it; not to Sandy nor Seth but he feels he ought to. There are times when the pressure inside gets too much. He relieves it by attacking the punching bag hanging in the poolhouse but that unsettling discomfort in the pit of his stomach never quite leaves.

She looks at him carefully and having never really noticed it before, she ponders the same realisation he has just had. And then her own neglect strikes her, glaringly obvious. He needed to talk too, still does, and she had given up trying with him after the first few moments. Concluded far too quickly that he simply wasn't going to let her in.

"I want to talk," she tells him and in their special way, that's also her telling him she will listen. But not now, she decides. They've just gone through Johnny and it's just gone past one, the sun is beating down a scorching heat and when she looks over at Ryan, it really doesn't feel like either of them is quite ready to have this conversation yet. "But, I think we should leave it for later. We've done enough for one day I think."

He breathes a sigh of relief he wasn't quite conscious he was holding in.

"I think that's good idea." he replies smiling.

She gets up and brushes the sand of her body before slipping on her shorts and blouse. He watches her framed by the beaming light of the sun behind her and can't help but be transfixed by how gorgeous she looks. So much so, that he doesn't hear her when she asks if he wants to have lunch.

She repeats herself once more and his eyes are shaken away from staring at her infinitely long legs up to her face. He hurriedly gets up, hoping he hasn't gone a horrific shade of crimson.

"Lunch sounds good."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So Chapter 2 is finally up! Sorry for the delay but have been swamped with exams. Thanks to those who have reviewed! More reviews are always a pleasure. **

They find themselves talking about Trey in little chunks. The moments sneak up on them as either party decides to reveals snippets of information. Sometimes the conversations last less than half an hour and other times they get drawn into it, such that time becomes endless. But after the first few conversations, talking becomes seamless and soon they realise there is nothing left to be said.

The awkwardness begins to dissipate wholly and a fresh, almost unparalleled, intimacy sets in. They are perhaps closer than ever before, even prior to their very first disaster which had been Oliver. Those first few weeks and months, where a bliss of absolute, albeit premature, faith in the longevity and integrity of their relationship. They had been the definition of first loves but that, along with their youth, gave rise to the feeling of an unconquerable love. No doubt, it had been a glorious feeling but the difference now, is that their relationship surpases mere feeling but proves itself in actuality.

The faith they had felt then, had soon been broken by Oliver. The reconstruction had started soon after, then stalled by Theresa and the summer there after. It had continued the following year but on the cusp of repair, Trey had shattered it once more and Johnny had allowed for a stagnant state. It would be unfair to say that the desire to fix things was never there because it had been present in abundance. The feeling of the enormity of their love never wavered; it was merely the rationality of that feeling which became dubious in this past year. Now this summer, all that has been resolved.

They have confided, they have shared; they have bonded in an unity of emotion. Faith which had previously been assumed has now truly been created. The peculiarity though in all this is that they still remain friends and only friends. When Marissa receives a letter from her dad, Ryan is the first person she tells. It is not a bad letter per se but the messiness of their past, brings on a complicated array of feelings. She is not quite sure what she tells him; it has almost become an habit to tell each other everything. But when she does tell him, it becomes blisteringly obvious, the ability he has to sooth her and comfort her and more than anything understand her. She can't even remember his precise words, in fact it wasn't his words which really had the effect. It was the touch of his hand, that look in his eyes that was so reassuring yet when she went over it in her mind again, it almost terrified her. He had this way of seeing through her, always has, which exposes her wholly. The look, the feeling, it replays in her mind and the more it does, the more she wonders about what they are because she feels it in herself that that is not a look of friendship. But she sets the thought aside, wary of setting them off their happy balance, though it doesn't stop her from pushing the boundaries.

They are on the beach as per usual; he's immersed in his sports magazine but she's bored. It's too hot and the air is too humid and she feels too tense. Without a second thought, she discards her headphones and stands up facing Ryan.

"I'm going for a swim." she announces and begins stripping off her denim shorts and flimsy white tank top. He thanks God he has his sunglasses on because, at least, it does something to hide his leering gaze which follows every inch of tanned skin that becomes exposed. She ties her hair up into a quick ponytail and just as he thinks she's about to go, she gives him one final look, lips curved in that salacious way of hers that is just subtle enough to not be crude, and tells him, "Are you coming?"

Then she's swaggering down the length of the beach on to the water and he's watching intently, following every sway of her hips.

_She's a fucking tease_, he decides but then he's grinning and taking of his shirt and chasing after her. They're playing with fire here, constantly pushing the limits of what accounts for harmless flirtation. However, despite possessing a degree of self-awareness, neither is aware of the fact that they've long passed the boundary for friendship or rather, they are choosing to allude themselves into thinking otherwise.

Marissa dips her toes into the water and shuts her eyes, relishing the cool touch. She's about to tilt her head to check whether Ryan decided to join her but before she can, his arms encircle her, lift her up and carry her deeper into the water.

"I thought we were going for a swim Cooper." he says breezily.

"Put me down!" she squeals.

"Ok." he says and dunks her into the water before dissolving into laughter, especially as she resurfaces from the water, her face stricken with shock.

"Oh, you do not get away with doing that." she says trying to be angry with him when in fact she has to stop herself from giggling.

"Hey, you wanted to swim." he retorts back still grinning. He splashes her with water leading her to launch at him so he collapses but he makes sure to bring her with. As they splash around in the water, they're taken back to three years ago when they were practising a very similar exercise in the Cohen's pool. Eventually they tire and Marissa takes his hand and pulls them back towards the beach. Suddenly she lets it go, as an idea comes to mind, and turns to look at him.

"Let's have a race." And then she's off sprinting towards their little spot. He waits a little, giving himself the amusement of watching her waddle through the water, and then follows after her. Even with the later start, he catches up with her easily and as they run side by side, he taunts her mercilessly.

"I'm going to beat you Cooper."

"No you're not!" she protests even though she knows he's right.

He could easily go faster but where would the fun be in that? Instead he tackles her lightly from the side, so they collapse onto the patch of towels at the same time. She breaks into a fit of giggles and her arms somehow find their way around his neck. He hovers over, supporting himself with his arms, and small content smile comes over his face as he watches her in awe, mesmerised by the lyricism of her laugh.

"I think I won." she tells him.

"I think you did." he whispers. They're close, so very close. He sees her green-blue eyes gleaming through. He can smell the minty scent of her shampoo mingled with the distinct aroma of the sea. He can see the way her wet hair sticks to her face and the beads of water hanging on her nose. If he averts his eyes just slightly downwards, he sees her whole body wet and the way her bikini subsequently sticks to her; the contours of her nipples no doubt visible. There's a tremble in his lip from the sight and then she takes a breath and exhales and that really kills him. He can feel her hot breath against his face and it permeates through his very body. It charges the air, electrifies it, fills him with desire and draws him closer.

They remain still, inches between them, and then a drop of water from his hair slides down and lands on her eyes. The moment vanishes.

She laughs uneasily wiping her eyes and he meanwhile gets up in a sudden jolt. He walks over to find a spare towel, keeping his face turned away from her. _It doesn't mean anything, does it?_ he keeps asking but everytime he asks himself, it becomes harder to convince himself otherwise. He runs the towel over his hair, buying himself more time to regain composure.

"Here," he finally says, offering her the towel. She gets up and takes it, wrapping it around her body.

"Thanks."

She smiles at him, he smiles back. She takes her hand and cautiously reaches out for his damp hair. He sees her expression change from a smile to nervous trepidation before returning to the gentle smile once again.

"You need to get a haircut." she tells him whilst running her fingers through the few strands that hang over his forehead. She brushes the strands to the side and then moves her hand back down to her side. It was barely monumental, the act she had just done. It had lasted less than a minute but Ryan had witnessed the whole event with bated breath, shaken by the proximity of her hand to his face. They didn't do that, Marissa was changing the rules, she was suddenly going against their new protocol.

He's about say something, anything really, to prevent that electric charge from building up again. That's when he hears Seth's voice.

"You guys, we're all waiting for you at the diner!" Seth shouts despite being only a few metres away.

Lunch. Yes, Ryan remembers, they were supposed to have lunch with Seth and Summer.

"Sorry, we got a little caught up." he tells Seth, trying to distract himself from Marissa.

Seth taking in their wet appearances asks, "Dude, what happened to you guys? Take a bath in the ocean?"

"We just went for swim," he says, turning briefly to look at Marissa with a knowing smile causing her to grin in response. Seth notes the momentary exchange between them and gives them both a suspicious look.

"Okay...well we better get going. Summer's rage blackouts get a lot more intensified when she's starving."

"We'll be there in a minute Seth. You can go back if you like and order." She notices Ryan's almost dressed as well and adds, "You can go too."

"No, I'll wait." he tells her.

"Alright, I'll see you guys in the diner then." Seth announces before leaving. As he's walking away he gives them one last look and can't help getting this deja vu feeling from watch the scene between them. The two friends on the cusp of something more, already there perhaps; he's seen it play out several times before.

* * *

Ryan and Marissa walk into the diner, expecting to see Seth and Summer but along with them, they find a crying Taylor. As they sit down, Marissa gives Summer a questioning look as she tries hopelessly to console her.

"What happened?" Ryan says warily, never really sure how to handle any situation involving Taylor.

"It's Seung Ho," Taylor speaks in a stutter of cries. "He was supposed to be my date for Cotillion but his dad's just died so he's going to South Korea - just talk about inconvenient! Now I'm going to be dateless, for _my Cotillion_. No I don't know if I'm even going to be able to go, you know you can't make your debut without an escort."

"Cotillion?" Ryan repeats in confusion. "I thought our Cotillion was two years ago."

"It was for all of you, but my mother had shipped me of to Swiss Summer Camp at the time. Apparently, my manners needed refinement...I was too manly, not enough grace...well anyway I thought this year, I might be able to have my moment."

"Have you considered trying to find another date? Just throwing that out there." Seth asks in that matter of fact way of his. He had meant to be helpful but only causes Taylor to erupt into a new flood of tears.

"It's a day before Cotillion, how am I supposed to find a date ONE day before Cotillion?" she asks Seth with teary eyes, wide open in hysterics.

"I'm sure something could be arranged." Marissa suggests, "and plus on the night, there are always some no-shows."

"Yes I remember, Marissa blew Luke off, Summer blew me off and then I blew her off. See there'll be someone else who's dateless."

"Right, someone who is just as pathetic as me. Thanks Seth." Taylor tells him sharply while Summer proceeds to kick him from under the desk causing a girlish shriek to escape.

"I was trying to be helpful, I don't see you coming out with any ideas Summer."

"You know Seth, there is one other idea." Taylor suddenly says wiping her tears.

"What?"

"Well...you could be my date." she suggests, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

"Me? Oh Taylor that's funny, really funny." Seth says laughing nervously, hoping she's in fact joking but he's only met by an unmoved expression. Suddenly adopting a slightly more serious tone, cautious of evoking her crush once again, he tells her, "Taylor you know I'm a taken man. It wouldn't be right for me to be your escort when I've been...promised to another. I'm sorry but there just isn't enough of this Cohen magic for everyone. It's strictly solo or well, actual, dual because Summer gets a share...ow...Summer!"

Summer who had succeeded in listening to at least the first part of Seth self-indulgent monologue, had now given up and decided to shut him up with a second kick on the shins.

"Look Taylor, even though I hate to admit it, Seth's right. And do you really want another girl's boyfriend taking you to your Cotillion?"

"It's better than having no one." Taylor says in shaky voice that immediately makes Summer nervous she's going to have another outbreak. She looks to Ryan and Marissa for any ideas but she's beginning wonder she might end up having to loan Seth for the night and she worries the repercussions it may have. After some vigorous eye contact, it quickly becomes established they have no other saving suggestions and that's when it hits her; Ryan and Marissa aren't together; Atwood's single.

"Ryan could take you!" she shouts, her voice slightly high-pitched with nerves. Taylor, she feels sure will agree but Ryan she feels a lot more uncertain about, if anything she feels an emphatic 'no' coming, especially as she spots the horrified expression on his face.

"That is a great idea Summer." Taylor meanwhile applauds with relief.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ryan asks, feeling a very unhappy about being volunteered into this role.

"Yes, it's a great idea, you're single, you're handsome, perfect really. You will be my date, won't you?"

This would be his chance to say, and he would have but when he's met by the pleading glances of not only Taylor but also Summer and Seth, he realises he has no choice but to say yes.

"Sure."

Taylor in a fit of happiness jumps across the table to give him a hug, reciprocated very awkwardly by Ryan. The tears have now gone and replaced with fast-flowing chatter about the perfection which will be her debut. Ryan watches tiredly, wondering what he has got himself into. He tilts his head to the side, to see whether Marissa matches the enthusiasm of the other three, and finds only a faint smile with her eyes averted wholly away from him.

"You okay?" he asks her for no reason he can define.

"Yeah."

For the briefest of moments, he catches a look of her eyes and he could swear he almost saw a hint of disappointment. Then the moment passes and he feels dumb for even having contemplated the possibility she may have been jealous.

They're friends; none of the rest matters. Not the morning spent at the beach, not the nights spent awake talking, none of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I finished a chaptered fic, yay! I hope you guys enjoy it, I'm relatively pleased with how this turned out. Thank you for the kind reviews already given, reviews are always the most rewarding thing to read. As always, reviews on this final chapter will be deeply appreciated.**

Marissa lies on her bed contemplating ditching going to Cotillion even though it is Kaitlin's Cotillion as well and she ought to go for her sister. But the thought of watching Ryan escort Taylor along that same path, he had walked with her two years ago and then to dance with Taylor, to share that same moment which had belonged to them, inspires a jealous resentment in her.

Just as she's deciding on a suitable excuse, she finds Summer standing at the door, all dressed, with a look of total exasperation.

"Coop! Why aren't you ready yet?!"

"I'm um I'm feeling a little ill. Maybe I should stay home, I'm not really feeling up for Cotillion." Marissa tells her weakly.

"Ill?" she questions her suspiciously. "You look ok, are you sure you're ill?"

"Yeah, I think there's a bug going around...I can feel a fever coming on."

"Coop." Summer says sternly, conscious that Marissa is very likely lying. After a moment's thought she adds, "Is this about Ryan?"

"Ryan?"

"Him taking Taylor. I know you two are close, I wasn't really thinking when I suggested he should take her..."

"Sum, it's ok. Ryan and I are _just_ friends."

"But you care that he's taking her?" Summer asks softly. Marissa shifts her eyes down, hesitates and then finally nods her head in a quiet agreement. "Look, get dressed, put on your best dress and he won't know what hit him."

Summer walks out and her words play over in Marissa's head. She gets up, walking over to her wardrobe. Her fingers slide over the fabric of the various dresses until they settle on a tight fitting silky blue dress. Picking the dress out, she holds it over her body as she looks onto the mirror. It's beautiful, she decides, too beautiful to not be worn.

* * *

She walks in with Summer and Kaitlin. By instinct her eyes scan for Ryan, instead she spots a giddy Taylor approaching them. She musters a weak smile but within minutes her eyes are once again looking for Ryan. For a second she has a moment of selfish joy when she considers he might have stood Taylor up. Then she sees him. He's in the corner talking to Seth, dressed in a tuxedo, hair cut and combed neatly. At that moment, she is so attracted to him that any notions of friendship appear absurd. She feels then the hefty realisation that those ideas of only friendship had always been somewhat foolish. As far as her mind can trace back, she can't remember a time when she had looked at him and had not felt that stinging feeling in her heart which filled her with a bitter sweetness.

Perhaps, she could walk over there right now, place her hands on his lapels, grip him tightly and kiss him right there. Then she would pull away, look him in the eye so that he would know what she had meant. Then her hands would fall to her sides, she would turn, her hair swivelling so he can catch the scent of her shampoo, and walk out of the room. He would watch her, the choice completely his to dictate where the relationship goes, and perhaps, just perhaps, he would follow her and find her, and they shall have their happily ever after

But it is only a perhaps. Instead she remains rooted, watching him dumbly from afar until Seth's started dragging him towards them. He almost looks uneasy, she thinks. Ryan's right hand lies behind his head, haphazardly ruffling his hair while his other hand remains behind his side, petulantly drumming his fingers. If she was to be wishful, she might just believe his uneasiness is lies in being Taylor's date.

"Summer, don't you look beautiful?" Seth squeals before rushing over to give his girlfriend a kiss. "And you too ladies."

Marissa gives Seth an awkward smile, out of courtesy, but her thoughts and her gaze remain transfixed on Ryan. Should she say hi, or let him take the lead? It's a horrible thought, but after weeks of rebuilding their relationship, it feels like they are back where they began.

"Hey." she finally says to him, although it would be difficult to determine it was aimed at him. It almost appears like a random word, muttered mindlessly into the air. There's that awkward smile still lingering on her face; it's a foreign smile when it comes to Ryan.

He's about to reply, his mouth parted ready to speak, when Taylor's wraps fingers around his arm. Marissa's observation is meticulous, noticing how the fingers curl ever so tightly on his bicep.

"Ryan, c'mon we have to go get ready." she hears Taylor berate.

"I am ready." he grumbles back and then her fingers slip to his hand, she grips it firmly and drags him across the room. Marissa watches the whole event, somehow it plays out for her in minute, excruciating detail. Seething jealousy holds her, controls her yet had she set it aside for just a second, then perhaps she would have noticed that pleading look in Ryan's eyes, begging to reassure her.

Ryan stands on the stage, feeling incredibly uneasy. He hears Taylor's name, followed by his own and then her arm slips around his as they walk down the little pathway, the sound of genteel clapping filling around them. He manages a small smile but he's praying for the ordeal to be over and all the while, he finds his eyes searching to room for the one Marissa Cooper. Then they're on the dancefloor and the music swells and Taylor moves them into the correct position. He's reminded at that moment of the scene years ago when Marissa was teaching him about the 'waltz position'; the nostalgia brings a genuine smile.

Taylor misreading it, comments "See, this isn't so bad after all." He sees her face lit up and he doesn't have the heart to correct her but equally, the smile struggles to stay in place.

"No. It's not so bad." he tells her. As they dance, his eyes go back to search until they finally find the beautiful blond, standing by herself at the bar, dressed in that heavenly blue dress. Her beauty is so devastatingly magnificent. Usually, simply watching her made him content but when he sees her now, he feels a strange sickness. She somehow feels so distant and there's this loneliness, which he sees lurking behind her eyes, and it breaks his heart. It has broken his heart since the day he met her. Behind the beauty, behind her enchanting facade, he saw the broken girl which escaped everyone else. The night he saw her passed out on the driveway, he had been met with this inexplicable desire to save her. It was in his instinct and it was what made the events with Trey so impossibly difficult for him to deal with. Somewhere along the line, he began to realise that Marissa wasn't his to save, that he couldn't take away all her problems; her resolution was for only her to find. But he could always help and perhaps what he never grasped when they were together was that all Marissa needed was for him to lie next to her and hold her hand. As he watches her now, her lonely figure cutting into his heart, he simply wants to go over and be with her.

"Ryan, thanks for doing this." he hears Taylor say, suddenly breaking into his thoughts. It takes a minute for him to process, before he averts his eyes back towards Taylors.

"It's ok." he tells her genuinely because she was by every definition extraordinarily happy right now and if all it took was being a date for her cotillion, then it really was ok.

"No it's not ok, because I can tell you want to be with Marissa right now and she wants to be with you and I'm just keeping you guys apart. I'm sorry, I had no idea there was still something between you guys."

Taylor's words take him by surprise, leading him to quickly interject, "No, there's nothing between me and Marissa. We're...just...friends." But as he speaks out loud, it strikes him how unconvincing he sounds.

"Really? Then why have you been staring at her direction at every opportunity? We both know you want to be having this dance with her right now."

"No, that's not true..." he protests weakly.

"So, if I said to you, your white knight duties were permanently free and you are free to go dance with whomever you want, you wouldn't immediately rush over to a certain Marissa Cooper." she challenges.

"Well, if I do that, it would be because Marissa is my friend and I haven't spoken to my friend all day." He momentarily moves his glance back to Marissa, who is now talking to some bartender.

Taylor follows his gaze and comments lightly, "It looks like Marissa might be making a new friend. A very cute friend." which leads Ryan to frown slightly. "I think I better let you go now."

"Are you sure?" he asks her, although he's desperate to rush over to Marissa.

"Yes."

"Thanks."

They end their dance and Ryan marches over to where Marissa is now sitting at the bar, all the while trying to shake away Taylor's comments about their relationship. He stands just a few feet away from her, her back is turned from him as she listens to the bartender tell some sort of story. He clears his throat and taps Marissa gently on her shoulder to get her attention. She turns her head when she sees an uncontrollable smile breaks out across her face. A smile which touches him to the core and further confuses the jumble of feelings inside him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So my white knight duties are finally over."

"So soon?" Marissa asks surprised.

"Taylor was feeling kind."

"So what do you plan on doing now?"

He thinks over her question and it suddenly hits him exactly what he would like to do. "Do you want to dance?"

"You hate dancing." she replies, unsure of where he's heading with all of this.

"I was feeling nostalgic." he tells her and stretches out his hand for her. After a moment's hesitation, she stands up and takes his. Then Ryan leans in just slightly and adds, "Besides, with you it's not so bad." He grins at her and then leads them to the dance floor.

It's effortless how they move into their position, Ryan's hand falling down easily to her waist whilst hers slip around his neck. The music is melodious as their bodies sway together; they find themselves looking at each other face to face. With his stormy blue eyes pressing down on her, Marissa begins to feel wholly exposed, yet her gaze remains transfixed.

"Did I tell you look stunning?" he says with his devastating lopsided smile. She blushes; she's not sure whether it's his words or his looks which causes it.

"You don't look so bad yourself."

Ryan smiles back. Then after a moment's contemplation he asks, his voiced laced vulnerability, "Hey, are we...are we okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't we be?" Marissa replies back, offering him a smile to reassure him. But her smile is weak and with his piercing eyes bearing down her, she is sure that he understands things are not okay. It is definitely not okay that she finds her eyes flickering down towards his lips every few seconds with a consuming urge to tilt her head forward and press her own lips against his. So, Marissa moves her head to the side, hiding her face from his intent gaze as they stand cheek to cheek. But Ryan moves them closer, so that their cheeks really do brush together; the proximity terrifies and thrills Marissa.

"It's just that...I don't know. You seemed a little upset today." Ryan says, persisting with their conversation.

"Ryan," Marissa begins exasperated, desperate to end this conversation but there is nothing she could say that would both end his questions and preserve their friendship. "I can't explain it."

Her words confuse him and set his mind racing on the root of this problem. Something has changed between them, something he can't yet place.

"I'm sorry about tonight, and Taylor." he tells her quietly because for some reason it feels appropriate.

"You've got nothing to apologise for."

"Maybe not, but it felt wrong being here with her tonight."

His words catch her by surprise and she's left to ponder their implication. There is something unfinished about his sentence. The words hang over in the open air and there is only one final clause which seems to fit at the end of that sentence: it felt wrong being here with her tonight, _instead of you_.

Maybe she's deluded, but the mere possibility of such an implication leaves her heart pounding. She suddenly moves her head aside, fixing her eyes against his once more.

With a courage she doesn't know where she finds, she asks him, "Are we friends Ryan?"

The question sets him shaking with panic. When Taylor had asked him, it had been easy to deny but lying to Marissa was a much harder feat.

"I don't know." At least he is being honest.

"That's exactly the problem Ryan. We aren't friends. We were never just friends."

She waits for a reply but it doesn't come. She wasn't expecting anything more.

"I'm sorry." she says, before she untangles her arms around his neck and walks away while he stares dumbly after her. Her frustration is a mystery.

_We were never just friends._

Those words - they hit him like a brick. They take him back to two years ago but then her words had been burning with hurt and anger and his own reply had been cold. He almost flinches from the memory. Now, he senses defeat from her. Her tone is not accusatory but sad, a reluctant acceptance. He keeps staring at her figure walking away but it's not an empty stare as it was last time. It's a searching look, seeking for answers; there is a determination to understand. This time, he wants to stay; he _will_ stay.

He's racing after her, following her as she walks out of the large hall.

"Marissa!" he yells at her as she hurries down the corridor. But she doesn't listen, ignores him completely and keeps walking. He runs after her, grabbing onto her arm, as yet again he begs her to stop. "Marissa, can we just talk? Just tell me what's wrong?" he pleads with her.

He sees a mixture of emotions play over her face. Then she takes a step towards and asks him, challenging him almost, "You really want to know what's wrong?"

"Yes, I –" Before he can finish his sentence, he feels Marissa grab on to his jacket and then clasp her lips against his. It's the softness which he feels first, but her kiss hits him with as much force as her words had just a few minutes ago, except it's even more powerful. It takes him by surprise but he doesn't protest. Instead, by instinct his mouth slips open, letting her tongue easily in and his hands move over to hold her face as their kiss further deepens. They are both lost in the moment, remembering again that divine feeling which only being with each other could provide. It is only when their lips break apart to gasp for air that it dawns on them what has occurred. Marissa tilts her head away to observe him fully. She had expected rejection, for him to push her away but it slowly begins to sink in that his response had been completely the opposite; he had kissed her back with as much vigour as her, if not more. Her plan had been to kiss him and bail but now, she is no longer sure what to do.

"Ryan..." she begins, feeling an obligation to try to explain. Then his hand which had been resting against the back of her head moves ever so gently on to her cheek. As he holds her face against the palm of his hand, his thumb lightly stroking her skin, it feels pointless to attempt to explain any of it. There is merely this inexplicable feeling between them which can either be denied or embraced. Only the latter feels acceptable right now. So, he leans in and presses their lips together once more.

This time they kiss with purpose, no longer restrained by any notions of friendship. It's been building all summer, over the burning heat and the intimate talks. The desire which had been simmering away now explodes. Marissa finds herself pinned against the wall. Ryan's lips settle on that hallowed spot on her neck he loves so dearly while his hands tread down her body, rubbing against her breasts and going lower to rest at her hips. She had forgotten just how good he was at this; how good they were together. All she can think of is that she wants to go further, far further, than simply making out in the corridor.

"Wait." she mumbles to him, before grabbing his hand and dragging him into the first empty room she can find.

"Why are we in the girls' changing room?" he asks her confused, unable to understand why she would break off their kiss.

She rolls his eyes at him; he seems to be having a slow night.

"Why do you think, Ryan?" she teases as she pecks a brief kiss on his lips. Taking a step back, her hands move to undo her zipper so that her silky blue dress falls to the floor in one fluid action. Ryan blinks back at her, mesmerised by the sight in front of him.

"What about protection?" he asks, disappointment suddenly threatening to bear down on him.

"I'm on the pill." she replies easily and he thanks her silently for being more prepared than he is. She leans in to capture his mouth into yet another hard and fast kiss. It leaves him completely breathless. He pauses for a moment to stare at her seriously and asks her if she's sure.

She looks back at him, her eyes shining with not only lust but sincere warmth. She tells him yes and places the sweetest of kisses on his lips that leave his eyes fluttering; it nearly knocks him out. They make love against the rickety door with little restraint, forgetting that Newport's most prized event is taking place merely a few metres away. As he moves within her, coherent thought leaves their minds, replaced with a concoction of euphoria and exhilaration. Even as their climax passes, the ecstasy lingers. Ryan shuts his eyes and rests his head against her shoulder. A languid pleasure still permeates through his body and perhaps it's the delirium speaking, but his mouth parts slightly and he whispers into the heavy air:

"I love you."

The words surprise him as they surprise her and jog the two of them to sharp consciousness. She doesn't react and so neither does he. He sinks his head deeper into her shoulder, as if to somehow seek refuge from those words he so carelessly uttered. He wonders for a second if she didn't hear yet the thought doesn't comfort him. It dawns on him that though the words had been careless, they were wholly genuine. He really does love her and the possibility that she may not reciprocate creates an ache in his chest. He feels her hand stroke his hair, slowly and gently. His heart beats just that little bit faster. Then he feels her hands come around to his face, lifting his head to rest against her own. He opens his eyes to see hers sparkling with radiance. There's this small smile dancing on her face which charms him so absolutely. Then she inches her lips closer and he thinks she's going to kiss him.

Instead, she shuts her eyes and tell him softly, "I love you too", and then she kisses him. He kisses her back, with all the passion he can muster, as he falls further in love with her.

* * *

The late night air is chill and sharp. They walk side by side along the beach, Marissa huddled close to Ryan to be warm. From moment to moment, Ryan's eyes flicker to observe Marissa. Unable to help himself, he spins her around into his arms so he can kiss her once more. When their lips finally separate, she lets out her signature giggle. The sound makes him want to kiss her all over again.

"So, I guess we aren't friends anymore." she comments lightly

"No, we are definitely not." he tells her and pulls her further into his arms. She leans into him and he holds her tightly. The moment feels so perfect that he is forced to wonder why they ever broke up, why they even waited so long to get back together again. It seems foolish now to think that he could ever cease to love her. To let her go, as he had done before, appears a sin.

"Ryan," Marissa murmurs. She leans out slightly, so she can stand face to face. He notes a trace of concern on her face. "Are we doomed to be caught in this cycle of breaking up and making up?"

He frowns, thinking over her words and he would love to deny her but their history only suggests otherwise. There had been a time in the past when he was willing to let the happy moments pass for the sake of continual peace. Yet if it is peace he wants, he has never felt more at peace than at this moment with her in his arms.

"I don't know, maybe we are." he admits, "But maybe we aren't. Our past shouldn't stop us from trying again, not, not when it feels so right. I don't think I could ever love anyone half as much as I love you, if even at all."

His freeness with words stun her. She looks into his eyes and finds an earnestness that she has never seen from him before. His faith is so resounding that her hesitance crumbles against it.

"Whatever happened to the Ryan Atwood who could barely speak a sentence composed of more than 10 syllables?" she teases. He smiles at her, not offering a reply. These words he is speaking now are long overdue, he knows that. She had deserved them, he had needed to say them; perhaps the worst fate he could imagine would be for Marissa to dwindle away from him under the presumption that he might not care.

"So are we good?" he asks anxiously. He fears that he may have only gotten her back, to lose her all over again.

"Yes." she reassures him. "I want this too, I want to try. I guess, the reason I asked that question was because we've been hurt so badly in the past and...I just don't want to hurt _you_ again."

"You never hurt me Marissa. If I ever got hurt, it was as much my fault as yours. And you said it yourself: we _both_ got hurt at times. But all the drama, I would go back and do it all again, if it meant being here with you. I'll take the chance of getting hurt again." he tells her with rich assurity.

His newfound easiness with words leaves her heart feeling light. She had always told herself she would be foolish for doubting that he loves her when he had frequently proved it with his actions. Yet to hear him voice his affections into words spoken out loud, it puts any anxieties at ease and moreover, frees her from her own caution with language.

"I really love you, you know that." she says softly. She looks so giddily happy that it makes him laugh.

"We're good then?" he asks again.

"We are more than good."

They kiss once more under the shining moonlight. The fresh scent of the ocean water fills the air and mingles with the frequent sound of their laughter. On this summer night, renewal rings through.

_**A/N 2: I hope the conclusion isn't too bad. I know Ryan's more free with his words than he ever was on the show but one of the points of this fic was to get Ryan/Marissa communicating more so hopefully it doesn't seem too farfetched. **_

_**Thank you for reading!**_


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